


Earn your keep

by NoemiTenshi, rebelbravado



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Other Bigotry, But it was neccessary, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Goes Off Canon in the Middle of "Minotaur", How to Thrive in the Apocalypse, Major Character Death Happens in the Very First Chapter, No Beta We Die Like Troy, Nothing Quite as Bad Will Happen After, Only Good Things Happen After, That Means Racism, Troy Otto centric, We're Very Sorry About That, Well - Freeform, grudging allies to friends to lovers, it's still the apocalypse, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoemiTenshi/pseuds/NoemiTenshi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelbravado/pseuds/rebelbravado
Summary: "And what am I, Jake?"Veering off canon in S3Ep9 we give Troy the opportunity to answer his own question. Strap in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride
Relationships: Jake Otto & Troy Otto, Troy Otto & Qualetaqa Walker, Troy Otto/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. 1

_I won’t let you disappear – I will keep your soul alive if I can’t have you here_

Troy still saw the dark red stain spread on Nick’s uniform, still didn’t feel like this was real. But Nick’s wide and frightened eyes had been real. Nick’s fast and shallow breathing against his cheek had been real. Nick’s weak grip on his arms had been real.

"Jeremiah didn’t kill himself," Nick had said with great difficulty. Blood had been trickling down his mouth, he had choked on some of it. But Nick seemingly had needed to get more words out even when Troy had been shushing him, had been trying to staunch the bleeding. "I did, for all of us." Troy had tightened his arms around Nick.

"You gotta live, you hear me?" he had pressed out, "Nick! That’s not how it’s supposed to go.“ Nick’s eyes had closed then, breathing almost non-existent. "Suicide-proof, that’s what you said!" Nick’s hands had slipped lifelessly from where they’d had gripped desperately at Troy’s arms.

Everything afterwards had been a blur. They had broken down the door, Madison was right at the front. Her wail had pierced his haze but he had refused to look up, refused to let go of Nick even when several hands had reached for him, several voices had rained abuse down on him. He couldn’t withstand seeing Madison’s grief in her eyes. Madison, who was cursing Troy, cursing Nick, Walker and his men, God. Troy closed his eyes and watched the spot of red on Nick’s chest grow again. That’s not how it was supposed to go.

"Tell me how it happened." Madison sat opposite of Troy, her voice hoarse. Troy forced himself to look at her. She looked distraught. Eyes red and puffy, clothes wrinkled, hair in disarray. Her expression was drawn, angry. Troy wet his lips. Closed his eyes. Mistake. The dark stain spread again.

"Why aren’t you killing me?" he asked instead of answering.

"Don’t," Madison pressed out and her anger intensified. She moved closer to Troy. "Tell me exactly what happened, Troy. How did you get my son killed? My _son_ , Troy, god damn you!" And she started hitting him, her blows unpracticed but still painful. She was favoring his nose and sure enough warm liquid was trickling down after a while. For a heartbeat he wished it was a stain spreading on his chest instead, painting his uniform a dark red.

Madison grew tired after awhile, her blows turned sluggish until she stopped.

“Tell me,” she demanded again, her mouth almost curving into a self-satisfied smirk at the damage she had done. Troy’s face was swollen and he reached it with a tentative hand, trying to assert the damage. It was a reflex and he aborted the gesture when he realized what he was doing.

“Nick took a bullet meant for me,” he said through broken lips, swollen jaw, as if he were discussing the weather. Madison’s face split into an ugly expression, full of fury and grief.

“You should be the one dead,” she hissed.

“I’m not,” Troy said in that conversational tone that was difficult to maintain with a throbbing face. Madison let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

“I wish you were,” she said simply, then turned and started to walk away.

“Where – where are you going? Madison!” No answer. Troy took a moment and then said, softly, “I know what you did.” Madison’s step faltered. “Aren’t you gonna finish, what you started?” And he spread his arms wide, invitingly. “Huh, Madison, aren’t you?” She did not once look back to him and after a slight hesitation she walked out the door. Troy let his arms sink, slowly and closed his eyes again. Watched the dark stain spread again.

It didn’t matter anymore whether Troy closed his eyes or not – it was dark either way and the dark stain continued to spread in an endless loop. Troy didn’t understand why he was still alive. He was so sure, after Madison’s visit, that she’d talk Walker into killing him. Not that Walker needed to be talked into it. Troy had taken a fair share of Walker’s men to the grave before… .

Nick’s frightened wide eyes appeared as if on cue and Troy couldn’t look away. Troy flinched when he remembered Nick’s frightened declaration: “I don’t want to die.” Had Nick sounded that panicked back at the house? In that moment he hadn’t really noticed – had ignored it? - but Nick had been panicked and scared. For himself and for Troy.

“Well Nicky, seems I’ve managed to completely fuck this up, too,” Troy said in a flat tone.

“You can make a fist,” a familiar but strange voice answered him. Troy snapped his head to his right, where he’d heard that voice and _Nick was there_.

“If you can make a fist,” Nick continued.

“Nicky!” Troy exclaimed at the same time. But Nick didn’t react to it.

“You can fire a gun,” Nick said unaffected, “and if you can fire a gun… you can get them before they get you.”

Troy peered at Nick. His eyes were clouded, unfocused. He took rattling breaths in between words – that’s why his voice sounded strange. The dark stain was still on his uniform and Troy couldn’t look away.

“Oh, that,” Nick said, following Troy’s gaze, “Yeah, that’s never coming out again. Shame, really.”

“You know, Nicky, the infected aren’t in the habit of talking. I should know.” Nick smiled then, an unnatural stretching of the corners of his mouth.

“Aren’t I special, then?”

“Nicky…” Troy breathed more than he said and reached out. Nick vanished.

“No. Nonononononono,” Troy chanted, “I’m sorry! It wasn’t supposed to be you!” His voice echoed in the small box. He grabbed his hair with both hands and _pulled_ , hoping the pain would ground him, would offer him relief from a deeper, gaping, unseen wound. But it was no use. Nothing could make him forget the feeling of Nick dying, for him, because of him. Nick, who didn’t want to die. Nick, who used his last breath to confess to murdering big Otto… Troy’s grip on his hair became even more painful. If not for him thinking big Otto had offed himself… if not for that…!

Big Otto who’d clung to life with a single-minded stubbornness, who’d never kill himself. Troy hadn’t been able to make sense of it, had not been able to _understand_. Troy let a desperate sound escape.

He might’ve chosen differently, if he knew beforehand… . And Nick wouldn’t have had to die! The desperate sound turned to low chuckles, then full-blown laughter. Nick had kinda dug his own grave there, hadn’t he? _Suicide-proof, my ass_. No one was save in Troy’s vicinity.

“Hey man, what’s so funny?” Nick was crouched besides him, eyes still clouded, breath still rattling. The words were slightly slurred like his mouth wasn’t used to making such sounds anymore.

“Suicide-proof,” Troy gasped out in between peals of laughter.

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” Nick said after a moment of deliberation. Troy stopped mid-laugh and gazed intently into Nick’s eyes – no, not Nick’s, an infected’s eyes.

“Are you?” Nick just shrugged a gesture that seemed to take a lot more effort out of him than it should. Troy’s gaze slipped to the dark stain at the front of Nick’s uniform.

“You’re awfully fascinated with my chest,” Nick said after – some time, Troy couldn’t exactly tell anymore. Troy looked into Nick’s clouded eyes.

“That… Nicky, that wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“Supposed to go? Are you listening to yourself? I told you, man, I _told_ you I didn’t want you to do that. ‘Pick up your rifle’ that’s what you said. So don’t dare tell me that’s not how it was supposed to go.” Troy clenched his jaw with such a force he hoped his teeth would burst.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t _understand!_ It was all jumbled up and I couldn’t make sense of it, Nicky! Big Otto… I just did what I thought he’d want, went where I thought he’d led me.”

“Listen to yourself! Jeremiah didn’t lead anyone! Maybe in the past, but not now, probably not for a long time. His mind was gone with the drink. He was just a bitter old man trying to hold on to his imaginary self-importance. Imparting his wisdom like it wasn’t just bigoted bullshit to make himself feel better, superior.”

“No! Nonono. You don’t get to say that, Nicky, you don’t! Don’t _say that_!” Troy’s voice had gained an edge. Nick just laughed, a gurgling sound. Then he grew serious again and came closer. So close that Troy could smell his foul breath.

“I _told_ you to stop. I told you that we were building something. Something you could be a part of. And you – you may have destroyed everything, and what for? Because of the hate and self-importance of an old drunk? Because you couldn’t find another way to figure out Jeremiah’s motives? Because you had to follow his example? Let me tell you something, Troy. Jeremiah never gave a shit about you. In the weeks I’ve been here he spend more time being a father-figure to me than he probably ever did to you. And look where that led. I killed him. For this ranch. For the people here. I thought that meant something to you.” The last sentence was spit, disdain dripping from each word.

“Nick,” Troy started, not yet clear on whether he wanted to fight Nick’s assessment of big Otto or of himself and his actions. But Nick had already vanished. Troy felt his chest tightened and his throat close up and it wasn’t due to the lack of food and water. Nick’s words had struck, with precision, his innermost insecurities and dragged them outside. And he hated how that made him feel. Hated thinking about big Otto as a father. Hated how he tried and tried and tried to emulate him so he’d acknowledge Troy’s worth and he always failed, always came up short. He shot up, all erratic movement and restless energy. But there was hardly space to walk and his frustration grew, turned ugly and monstrous and he needed to just. Stop. Thinking. Stop right. Now.

But there was nothing, _nothing_ in this fucking box they put him in. Just walls and him and even Nick had left, disgusted with him. And he was right, of course he was. And he was dead and it was Troy’s fault because he could never figure out the right thing to do. Always guessing, always ending up at the wrong solutions because he, himself, was wrong, wrong, wrong. And he had to STOP. THINKING. Because those thoughts led down, down to the cellar.

And for lack of any other distraction Troy started banging his head against the walls. It was so loud, it drowned out everything else.

When Troy regained consciousness, his biting hunger and agonizing thirst were joined by a booming headache. Nick’s words were still echoing in his mind, mocking him, shaming him, devastating him.

“Nick?” he called out, “Nick! Nicky?”

“Careful. You’re gonna wake the dead,” Nick said right by his side. Troy ignored the quip.

“Nick, listen – listen to me. I do, ok? I do care about the ranch. About the people. This place, that’s the only thing that matters to me, do you understand?”

“You have a funny way of showing that, Troy.” Troy shook his head frantically.

“I just – I can’t always figure stuff out, you know? I try, Nicky, I swear I try! But it never seems quite right. It’s never, never any good.”

“You know your problem, man?” Nick asked conversationally, “You look to the wrong person for guidance. Trying to go where Jeremiah sent you – well, we both know how that turned out for him” – and he winked. Troy’s expression slipped.

“Nicky…” he said desperately.

“You like science right? Experiments? You understand those, right? So let me put it like this. Your like one of these mice that have been put into a labyrinth. Jeremiah put you there. And he gave you misleading directions, misleading punishments and rewards. All to make you stay in there, make you doubt your senses. Even when you see and feel and taste the wall before you he has you believing it’s not there. He has you running head-on into it. You gotta get rid of this shit, man. If you care about this place as much as you say you do –“

“More than anything,” Troy interrupted, needing Nick to believe him. Nick raised his eyebrows. “– well then. Get rid of it. You’re no use to anyone otherwise. Certainly you weren’t to me.” And the words hit their mark. Troy felt like clawing off his skin, escaping himself. But there was nowhere to go, nothing to do.

“I’m sorry!” he gasped out, “Nick, I’m sorry! It shouldn’t have been you.”

“But it is,” Nick said, without acknowledging the apology.

“I’d have given my life for yours,” Troy said.

“Well, we’ll never know that now, will we? Because I gave mine for yours.”

“I’m sorry!” Troy went to grasp at Nick, hold him, make him understand. Nick sidestepped him.

“I’m just in your head, man. You get that, right? The one you wanna say sorry to, the real Nick, well, he can’t hear you. He lies out there, dead. A knife to the head probably. Hey! You think Mom did it? Maybe she even waited until his body reanimated. Hoping against hope that Nick is somehow still in there. That probably broke her heart all over again, don’t you think?”

_Madison_ . Troy’s mind was suddenly a kaleidoscope of Madison. Their first meeting, _“I’m with you.” “There’s a fight coming and you have to save us.” “You should be the one dead.”_

“Well, Mom’s as cold-blooded as they come, if you ask me. But that must have hurt even her,” Nick interrupted Troy’s thoughts, “Hey, you wonder why she didn’t kill you? Are you maybe hoping she’ll replace me with you? Nah, man, she put a spoon in your eye for me. Pretty sure that’ll now be on the forefront of her mind. She’s probably regretting not ending you right then.”

Troy opened his mouth and screamed until his voice gave out. But that did not get rid of Nick’s words.

He’d lost Madison, he must have. There was no way she could ever forgive him. Madison, who understood him like no one else did, who believed in him, who needed him, saw him. She’d tried to stop him, too and he’d just spit in her face _“Oh, come on, you just wanna  
save your son, Madison.”_

He had destroyed this, the connection they had. He was to blame, like always. He only knew how to damage and destroy. He understood that, it came natural to him.

And it cost him Nick. And it cost him Madison. She’d leave him. And she didn’t even have the mercy to kill him for it. He didn’t know how he could bring himself to see her everyday, knowing that she’d hate him, wish him dead. He balled his fists, muscles tightly coiled. Anger rising.

“You thinking of doing the same things to Mom that you did to the Trimbol’s?” Troy’s gaze shot to Nick. “Yeah,” Nick drawled, interpreting the surprised look correctly, “I know about it. Did you think for a second I didn’t? Man, that – that was savage. Y’know, from one killer to another. That what you gonna do to Mom?”

Troy’s whole body strained with the force with which he tensed his muscles. His mind was a whirlwind, thoughts flitted by so fast, he had trouble grasping them all, let alone voice them.

“I wouldn’t mind, though. I’m just making conversation. It’s so boring in here, I could just loose my mind.” And Nick stretched his mouth into the too-wide grin, baring his teeth.

Troy let his fist fly into Nick’s face, putting all his frustration into it. Nick vanished and Troy’s fist hit the wall with too much force. His skin split and his arm reverberated painfully with the blow. _Madison_. His thoughts return to Madison. He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t.

Finally, _finally_ when he’d thought he found the people he belonged to, the one’s he hadn’t even known he had be searching for all his life, he’d lost them. He’d _ruined_ them. How was he supposed to deal with this?

“You can make a fist,” Nick said to his left. Troy let his tired eyes wander over to him.

“Very impressive,” Nick added. Troy stretched his fingers and turned his hand this way and that, staring at his bloodied knuckles.

“Yeah,” he said slowly.

“You should forget about Mom,” Nick advised, “She and Jeremiah have a lot of things in common.” Nick paused. “And I don’t mean good things. That’s why they got along so well.” Troy shook his head several times.

“No, no, see. Madison, she gets me.”

“Did she ever tell you she used to be a guidance counselor? Pre-apoc,” Nick asked. Troy just looked at Nick impatiently. “Kidding, of course I know it” – and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully – “See, it was her job to get people to trust her. Troubled, closed-off kids. The outcasts and castoffs. You thinking she understands you, well, that just means she’s doing her job right.”

Without warning Troy started hitting Nick with both fists. With each punch his anger intensified and he wanted to hear the satisfying crack of bones, feel his fists turn wet with blood until all that remained to be pound would be a soft mass.

But the bones cracking where his own, as was the blood soaking his fists. Nick had vanished again and hadn’t heard Troy repeat over and over again “You’re wrong!”

The last “You’re wrong.” was whispered and uncertain. Troy ran his hand over his face, leaving a bloody trail behind. He stared at the bloodied wall and took a deep breath. That was not good. That was not good at all.

He forced his fists to open, his shoulders to sink low, feeling that every slightest movement was a fight against himself. Deep. Breath.

There was no sense in thinking about Madison now. She didn’t kill him. He just had to concentrate on that. Madison, thus far, had always managed to surprise him. There was no sense in trying to predict her actions. Not while he was stuck in here.

He’d just have to wait and – the Trimbol’s flashed before his eyes and he shook his head as if that would get rid of these thoughts.

He’d just have to wait.

He sat down, his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He ignored the dark stain spreading. Nick did not come back.

At the noise of scrapping metal against the door Troy stood up, very carefully and slowly. His body housed endless pain in form of hunger and thirst, headache and cracked knuckles. Sleep-deprivation. The sun was hurting his eyes and he squinted.

“Troy.” That voice! It was Madison. She stood at the entrance of the box. He could not read her face nor her tone when she said, “Come with me.” He followed her with measured movements.

“Drink,” Madison ordered while giving him a flask. Troy wet his lips and took it. _Poisonous_ flashed briefly through his mind. But he shrugged the thought away and set the flask to his lips. He knew he needed to take it slow or he’d make himself sick but he almost couldn’t. The water felt so good on his lips, in his mouth, down his throat. He forced himself to go slow and gave the flask back after few swallows.

“Should I say thank you?” he asked and was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. Madison’s eyes snapped to him – up until now he hadn’t realized that she hadn’t looked at him once since getting him out of the box.

“You should drink all of it. Eat.” Troy nodded, afraid to break this tentative peace between them with words.

Madison had come for him. That was the only thing that mattered. Troy took small bites of the offered bread, making sure to chew them thoroughly and tiny swallows out of the flask until both were empty. He wiped carelessly over his mouth and pushed his plate away to signal Madison that he was done. Madison who’d busied herself in another room, meanwhile.

“All done I see,” she said when she came into to room, “Good.” Troy felt a twinge of satisfaction at that.

“So…?” he asked. Madison sat down, a grim smile on her lips.

“So. Walker and his men,” she paused and suddenly Nick appeared, leaning in closely as to not miss a word his mother said, “They won’t get away with this.” It was a statement and not a question. Troy lightly flicked his eyebrows together.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked because he needed to know, not guess. Nick now turned his head slowly to Troy and smirked as if to say “What do you think she means!?” Troy let his gaze pass over Nick.

“Troy,” Madison said and it sounded disappointed, “you were right. Giving up our guns, sharing this land with them – that’s total surrender.” And Nick raised his brows in over-articulated mock-surprise.

“You said it’s survival,” Troy reminded her, mind racing now. What she was proposing it was dangerous, very dangerous. Walker and his men were already here on this land. Had all the guns.

Madison pressed her lips together.

“I was wrong,” she said slowly. Then she leaned in closer and said, “Come on, don’t you want them off your land?” Troy inclined his head – more in thought than in agreement. It’d need to be a stealth attack. Simultaneous. He was secure in the knowledge that the militia would follow him, especially after losing Nick and him being locked away. But did they have enough training to pull it off? If just one of them slipped – and he saw Nick’s lifeless body in his arms. Even if not, it could still go so very very wrong, very fast. And the fallout wouldn’t only be felt by the militia but by all of his people. And his mind flashed to the Trimbol’s, all dead and he had to close his eyes with force, slightly shaking his head. No more.

“I’m with you, Troy,” Madison said intently, “As I should’ve been that night.” And the way she said it made him study her. She was all tense, face drawn and her eyes were boring into his. There seemed to be a storm of emotions brewing but for now she had tight control over them. Now she reached a hand out to him, laying it on his. And something in the gesture appeared wrong to Troy. Reminded him of Nick and his movements, how they seemed unpracticed and taking up more effort than they should.

“I think you were right that night,” Troy said while staring at their joined hands. Madison’s hand spasmed against his.

“What is this?” she asked angrily, “Did the time in the box mess with your head?” And over her shoulder Nick started grinning while sharing a confiding look with Troy.

“They already are on our land. They have all our guns, Madison,” Troy tried to reason with her.

“Oh, I’m sure you have more tucked away somewhere. Right? And anyways, we don’t need guns. Look what Ophelia did. Between the two of us we can outdo her.” And Troy could not stop thinking of Nick dead in his arms, of Phil sitting at the outpost, his brain being picked at by birds and he did not want to imagine what Walker and his men would do to his people if Madison’s plan failed. He knew it’d be gruesome. Merciless.

And what if they didn’t fail? What if the best-case scenario actually occurred? Then he’d still have spilled blood of those people Nick had become a killer for on his land. The people that were responsible for Nick’s death.

But even as he thought that he knew it was only a half-truth at the most. Because he was responsible for Nick’s death, too. And Madison too, because he was sure she was the one to suggest killing big Otto. And if she’d only done her part, if she’d been the one to pull the trigger Nick might’ve still lived. And it was big Otto’s fault, too, for being too goddamn stubborn, too caught up in all that shit from before – from pre-apoc to choose for the good of his people.

Mike and his family flashed before his eyes. _You gotta get rid of this shit, man._

Madison dug her fingers painfully into his hand. Seemed he’d been quiet too long, too lost in his head.

“You owe me, Troy. You owe Nick.” And Troy was viciously reminded of a similar conversation they’d had in the past. When she’d wanted him to infiltrate Walker’s camp and get Alicia out. That had turned to shit then, too. _She and Jeremiah have a lot of things in common._

“No, Madison,” he said deliberately and looked into her eyes, willing her to understand, “Enough blood has been spilled on this ranch. No more. Think, uh, think of Alicia. This goes sideways, you sure as hell can be sure Walker won’t give her a swift death.”

“I’ve thought you a lot of things, Troy, but _coward_ wasn’t among them until now.” Troy lifted one corner of his mouth, amused and tired.

“That the best you got?” he asked, “Coward!?” Madison clenched her teeth.

“I’ve protected you,” she ground out, “Time and time again. The, the Trimbol’s. And just now again. I’ve argued against your execution. I’m the reason you’re alive. Certainly Jake was no help! You owe me your life.”

“I owe Nick my life,” Troy replied in a high-pitch. He swallowed and continued low, “Nick who wouldn’t have wanted that–”

“Don’t talk to me about what Nick would’ve wanted,” interrupted Madison, “Never talk to me about Nick. He’s dead because of you. You could at least have the decency to pay back what he’s owed. Guess Jeremiah was too drunk to even teach you basic manners. Are you really that defunct?” Behind Madison Nick was spreading his arms wide in a ta-da – gesture, unnatural grin still stretching his lips.

“Don’t do this, Madison,” Troy pleaded not wanting to believe what he was hearing but at the same time he was strangely resigned to it. _She and Jeremiah have a lot of things in common._

Madison swallowed, closed her eyes. Then she opened them again slowly.

“Troy,” she whispered softly and Troy felt terrible hope bloom in his chest again. Involuntarily he leaned closer. Mistake. Her elbow found his nose and his world turned black.

He came to in a daze. And his first thought was _Stay down_. He could just let Madison go, get her revenge. She would manage to take at least some of the Indians with her before they managed to stop her. Get some back. It would even the playing field, wouldn’t it?

But that thought felt more like a reflex than anything else. And he realized he’d meant what he said. No more blood-shed on this land. And that did include Madison so he’d just have to find her before she could do something irreversible.

His head was booming and his whole body was hurting but he could make a fist – isn’t that right, Nick? – and so he pushed himself to _move_. Thankfully he hadn’t been out long, probably only seconds and the door stood open so he frantically went through it. He could see Madison running towards the Indian’s camper vans. What was she even thinking of doing? He could also see Crazy Dog sitting there and he redoubled his efforts.

When he reached the both of them they were already locked in a fight. Troy took a moment not to burst into hysterical laughter at what he was about to do. But no one was dead yet.

Movement was a good thing, his lungs inhaling deeply just to get him to function was a good thing, adrenaline numbing the pain that had taken over his body was a good thing. This was a good thing, he tried to convince himself as he lunged himself at the jumbling mess that was the woman and the Indian. His shoulder connected to something hard, which hurt, and for a moment he was unsure which body part belonged to who as all three of them landed in the dust. Troy’s senses heightened at the sharp sound of a blade being pulled from its home. Again his mind cursed him for what he was doing, asked him to stop, reconsider, because how did this make sense?!

“Get off me!” Madison’s voice had never sounded like this. All control out the window, all calculated actions had left the stage. _So that’s what_ _her_ _grief looks like._

“Fucking hell Otto!” A loud curse and hot liquid on Troy’s arm, neither his. Crazy Dog threw Madison off him like she was a ragdoll and the woman slammed to the ground, back first. Then the man turned to Troy, all mad eyes and glinting knife and before Troy could tell him they were -ironically- on the same side he kicked him in the stomach and to the ground. Troy coughed, strangely surprised that the taste of blood was in his mouth and his body protested loudly. He turned to his side, spitting as he grunted and shook his head, he shot and annoyed glare in the man’s direction. _Stay down,_ a voice in his head. Troy did not stay down. Instead, he shot up and Crazy Dog shot forward. Troy blocked his attempt at stabbing him in the shoulder, the blade cut his forearm instead. He shifted on his feet, regathering his footing as his hand slipped up and around the man’s wrist, forcing the blade from his hand until it dropped in the dirt next to them. Crazy Dog took this as an offense and hurled himself at Troy, one, two fists to his right flank, three, four to his left. Troy struggled to breathe; he was sure he heard a crack somewhere. There was no air left in his lungs by the time Madison’s hand reached for the knife at their feet.

“What the…” Crazy Dog noticed it too, temporarily halting his actions so Troy could slip from his hold and put his boot down on Madison’s hand, hard. She glared up at him with such intense madness Troy felt his cheeks flush, a nauseating reflex he had never truly unlearned. He had seen that look in so many eyes, Jeremiah, Jake, his mother’s. Madison Clark _hated_ him.

Crazy Dog did not wait to ask questions, instead he reached for the knife, holding it up to Troy’s chin and Troy let him. The three of them panted, Troy’s foot on Madison’s hand, Crazy Dog’s knife pressing into the soft skin of Troy’s neck. He pressed hard enough to draw blood and the pain of it was the only thing that could make Troy look away from Madison’s face.

“Get backup.” Troy snarled at the man who stared at him in confusion. “I got this, get backup!” Troy roared now and as he moved to get Madison she was quick to slip away. Crazy Dog watched for a moment, dazed and confused until Madison paid him no mind and went for Troy instead. Troy caught her, _one last time_ , his mind whispered menacingly. Strong arms folded around her in an ugly embrace, pressing the air out of her, tugging at her to get her to surrender. Madison did not go down without a fight, her head snapped backward, nearly missing Troy’s and he tightened his grip on her even more.

“They killed Travis!” the roar ripped from her chest and it sounded painful, desperate. She moved with every word, struggled with every fighting breath left in her and while Troy did not fight her physically he was waging a war all his own.

“They killed him, and they killed Nick. They killed my son! YOU killed my son!”

There it was again. The ugly truth.

“I know.” Troy said, tired to the bone but holding on for dear life, for Nick’s dear life. Saving this ranch was the only thing that would make his death _mean something_. Even if it meant saving it from the one person, he had trusted the most.

“I know.” He repeated.

There was a commotion and several people were running towards them. Troy did not dare breathe a sigh of relief yet and redoubled his efforts to hold Madison in place. Crazy Dog had brought back Walker and some of his men (all with guns as a quick look told Troy). And Jake was with them.

Then everything happened simultaneously.

“Troy, _Troy_! What do you think you’re doing? Let Madison go!” Jake spoke fast and agitated, gesturing wildly.

Several guns pointed at them.

“No one move!” Walker commanded.

Madison’s flung back head didn’t miss this time and pain exploded in Troy’s already abused jaw. He fell back with the force of the blow.

“No. One. Move,” Walker ground out a second time, stepping forward. Troy was panting hard and squinting at the gun Crazy Dog had pointed at him. Jake looked like it took all his self-control not to move. He was not looking at Troy.

“What did you do this time, Troy?” Jake asked.

Crazy Dog smirked at Troy. Troy just stared blankly back. No one spoke.

“It wasn’t the boy,” Crazy Dog drawled finally and swerved his gun to Madison, “It was her.” Madison was staring down several guns, lips pulled back into a snarl. Jake’s face slipped. Before he could formulate a question Walker turned to Crazy Dog.

“What. Happened.” He did not sound patient. Crazy Dog grimaced quickly. Now it was Troy’s turn to smirk at him, though it hurt his face and he dropped the expression quickly.

“She came at me, without warning. Intent on fighting–”

“Killing,” Madison interrupted in a low voice. Troy tensed. Until now he really had believed that she’d somehow get out of this, like she always did.

Walker stared at her for a heartbeat, expression slack. Then a muscle jumped in his jaw and he nodded his head to Troy.

“What about him?” he asked Crazy Dog.

“Oh, he was after her like a madman,” Crazy Dog said and sent another one of his smirks Troy’s way. Troy stared defiantly back.

“I saved your ass. She was winning,” he said – Madison let out a grunt – then his gaze bored into Walker’s. Challenging him.

“Why?” Walker asked. With the way his face contorted afterwards, Troy got the feeling that he hadn’t really meant to voice that thought aloud.

Still, Troy answered, the image of Nick bleeding out in his arms fresh in his mind, “Enough blood has been spilled on this land.” Again Walker’s face did something complicated and his expression turned thoughtful. And he eyed Troy carefully, sizing him up, like he was seeing him for the first time.

“What would you suggest we do with Madison?” Walker asked Troy slowly as if every word was chosen with great care. Troy blinked sluggishly, taken off-guard by the turn of the conversation.

Trying to think was like walking through tar and he longed to say “Whatever, I don’t care, just let me rest, leave me in peace”. But of course he didn’t because even half-dead on his feet, his body and mind screaming in pain, he recognized the question for the test it was. Walker was testing him. Reevaluating him.

He could hardly form a thought though.

“Send her away,” he answered tiredly, because suddenly he was feeling exhaustion that had nothing to do with hardly getting any sleep for days and being in several fights. It was the kind of tiredness that no amount of resting could cure. Walker inclined his head almost imperceptibly. Troy, at last, let a sigh escape.

Troy was free to go pretty much after that. Jake was walking besides him, looking at him oddly. Troy did wonder, for an eye-blink, what Jake was thinking. But he shrugged the thought away because he couldn’t be bothered, he was so tired. And so he was thankful to his brother that he didn’t speak, because it took all his willpower to just _move_.

Once they were inside their house Jake stepped in front of him.

“Troy! What – what was that? What really happened?” Troy squinted at Jake, eyebrows drawn together. “What happened between you and Madison? What did you do?”

Troy opened his mouth to reply, then paused. He was so tired. Jake was not moving an inch, trying to appear intimidating.

“Her son died. She wanted to get hers back. I didn’t agree,” Troy said simply. Jake stared. Shook his head.

“There must’ve been more! What – what did you say to her? What _happened_ between the two of you?”

“Where were you?” Troy asked back without replying, “When they got me out of the box, where were you, brother?” Jake grimaced.

“Madison thought it best if – if she were the one to get you out,” Jake answered slowly. Thoughtfully. Troy’s expression turned faintly wry.

“You need to tell me what happened between the two of you!” Jake reiterated forcefully. All expression left Troy’s face.

“I had – several rough days. Imma go take a shower now, Jake,” Troy said and started walking. Jake moved out of the way.

Getting rid of the grime of the last few days took more effort than it was probably worth it, Troy thought. But still he scrubbed away in the hope that once his body was freed of it, it would also free his mind. It did not work. Still Troy stayed longer than he normally would under the low-pressure water stream and followed the rivulets moving down his body mentally. He took a deep breath and asked,

“How did you like that, Nicky?”


	2. 2

_Tell me all about it, I love to hear it – The way I ruin everything I touch_

Troy dreamed of his mother. So being woken by arguing voices was a relief of some kind. He could hear Jake's agitated voice "Leave him be. He needs sleep!" and – was that Walker? He spoke too quietly to make out individual words.

Troy ignored how his body protested, sharp and dull pain shooting through him, dancing together, converging, and moved towards the voices. He leaned against the doorway of the living area, most definitely not because he needed the support but because it made him look careless.

“I’m up, what do you want?” It came out grumpier than intended and Jake shot him a warning glance. Troy didn’t have it in him to roll his eyes in response.

“I thought you'd like to hear that Madison's exile went without a hitch.”

“Funny,” Troy replied in a tone that was anything but amused and fixed Walker with a challenging stare. “You know what I'd _really_ like to hear?” he asked after an intentionally long pause.

“Troy!” Jake interrupted, shaking his head slightly, begging him to behave. Troy didn’t even glance his way and continued, “I’d like to hear how these last few weeks were just a very vivid nightmare. That you’re still at that sorry place you called home, that my father stilled lived, that _Nick_ still lived–” He stopped himself mid-sentence. “Point is, I very much doubt you came here because you care about the things I want. You came here because _you_ want something from _me_. So don’t bullshit me and get to it.”

“Alright, Troy, let’s both stop with the bullshit, then. _You’re_ only alive because Madison spoke for you. Madison, who we had to exile now because she attacked, unprovoked. Let me tell you, that’s a very precarious situation you’ve found yourself in, even if you apprehended her.”

“You call that stopping with the bullshit? Because all I can hear is how hard you try to intimidate me. Are you afraid, Walker? That why you came?”

“Oh, you misunderstand. I’m just making sure you know the position you’re in, _Otto._ ” The last word was laden with old hate, hate that had nothing to do with Troy and everything to do with the one that gave him that name.

“Taqa,” Jake said low, trying to placate. Troy pushed himself away from the doorway, intently watching Walker.

“Ah, so this is what it’s about? The position I’m in? Or – the position you’re in?” Troy asked slowly, still watching Walker’s every movement, trying to gauge his reaction. Troy couldn’t hide a slight smirk when he caught Walker’s nostrils flaring. Walker stared at Troy disapprovingly. Troy wasn’t backing down, something hard in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! How about we all sit down – uh – maybe eat a bite? Troy, you must be hungry. Taqa, come on,” Jake tried to coax them, wanting to diffuse the tension. Neither Troy nor Walker looked his way.

“The position all of us are in,” Walker said instead of answering Jake, “’Enough blood has been spilled’ that’s what you said. If you meant it–”

“I meant it,” Troy almost growled in response.

“Then you _should_ care about the position all of us are in. Not at least because of you. So don’t let your father’s sacrifice go to waste, don’t–”

Troy started laughing, a mirthless sound. “What – what do you mean ‘my father’s sacrifice’? Are – are you kidding me!? Big Otto, he, uh, he would’ve let us all rather die miserable deaths than sacrifice a god damn thing. It isn’t his sacrifice, it’s Nick’s.”

He might as well have taken out the gun hidden beneath the floorboards and started shooting, the effect couldn’t have been greater.

“Troy, what are you talking about?!” Jake hissed while coming closer, wanting to – shake him? Walker just stared at him, mouth slightly open, like he wanted to talk, he just hadn’t decided on the words yet.

“You, you two didn’t know?” Troy asked, “Man, I thought for sure Madison would’ve told you, Taqa. Same for you and Alicia.” And finally Troy did look at Jake, a careless, condescending expression on his face.

Which caught Jake’s fist. Troy grimaced, mouth down turned, something painful moving in his eyes. He made no move to defend himself. Walker did. He’d taken Jake by the shoulders, blocking his access to Troy.

“Stop it. Jake!” Walker hissed while digging his fingers into Jake’s shoulders in warning. Jake raised his hands in a disarming gesture and Walker stepped slowly away.

“So. The position we’re in,” Troy said pointedly, while feeling his swollen lip with curious fingertips, his gaze fixed on Jake, “Let’s talk about that.” Walker huffed an unbelieving laugh.

“Seems you’ve got it all figured out, Troy. Talk then,” Walker challenged. Troy curled his lips into a slight smile. With a head-tilt he told the other two to follow him. They sat down in the kitchen and Troy raised his eyebrows at Jake but didn’t say anything to him.

“Way I see it, Taqa, you’re in deep shit,” he started.

“Make no mistake. You’re right there with me,” Walker said low. Troy allowed a half-nod.

“Yeah, doing what I did three nights ago probably didn’t endear me to your people. But it will have impressed some of mine.” Walker’s eyes narrowed.

“Easy. I’m not planning on doing anything with that,” Troy conceded, “Just stating facts.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me now?” Walker guessed. Troy suppressed a smirk and raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

“Your position is a bit more complicated though, isn’t it? First you let me live. Don’t think that went over too well. As you’ve said on Madison’s behalf” – And his voice was almost normal when he said that name – “Then you had to exile her. And _I_ saved Crazy Dogs life. Meaning you couldn’t kick me out with her. Man that must have smarted.”

“Is there a point in there?” Walker asked in a pointedly bored tone that told Troy he was anything but.

“We need to work together,” Troy said finally, “That’s what you came to tell us, right?” – And before Walker could say anything to that Troy hastily added – “I agree. So let’s come up with a – uh – a battle plan.” This time Troy wasn’t fast enough to hide his smirk at “battle plan” and Walker caught a glimpse of it.

“We need the exact opposite of a battle plan,” Walker said. Troy was watching Walker closely, biting his lower lip in thought.

“Why – why aren’t you chasing us from our land?” he asked then, “Not much we can do about it, right?” Walker blinked, caught off guard.

“I’m just honoring my part of the deal,” Walker replied and it was his turn now to watch Troy closely.

“It was mostly with Madison, that deal, right?” And Walker could hear Troy’s voice slipping slightly at that name. And Walker moved his head in disagreement.

“It wasn’t just with Madison. And I’m not going to punish the people here by association,” Walker said almost indignantly.

“Alright,” Troy said and it sounded like he was thinking those words carefully through, “That’s – yeah.” Walker raised his eyebrows and Troy looked away.

“Wasn’t there a little part of you wanting to join her – Madison?” Walker asked. Troy looked startled. The conversation had taken a very unexpected turn.

“Uh, well – yeah,” Troy admitted with a shrug because there was no reason not to. Walker would’ve been suspicious if he’d said anything else, anyways, “As if you didn’t want to exile me, too.”

Walker smiled in response, “Fair enough.” Troy huffed a laugh.

“I’ll deal with anyone thinking of trying something on my side,” he offered then, “The militia–”

“The militia is done, Troy,” Walker said, “Disbanded.” Troy just looked at Walker for a moment.

“The militia is the place for that,” Troy said firmly, “And it’ll need to be reinstalled.” Walker shook his head.

“Listen, they’ll meet anyways. We’ll do it with or without your leave.”

“We?” Walker’s voice gained an edge. Troy shrugged.

“How else am I supposed to keep an eye on them? It’ll also go a long way with my people, reinstalling the militia. And we’ll need our weapons back.”

“No!” Walker wasn’t shouting but his tone brooked no argument, “No guns.” Troy grimaced.

“What kind of militia are we supposed to be, then?”

“I don’t care. You, especially _you_ aren’t getting any guns anytime soon.” Troy looked frustrated and his body language turned threatening. Walker just raised his head, staring back unblinking.

“Alright, no weapons,” Jake said into the heavy silence, ignoring Troy’s outraged expression, “This is more than generous. But the militia can meet with your approval, right Taqa?” Walker looked at Jake like he had forgotten he was here and took a moment to think it over.

“You get your militia back, Troy. But no weapons. And I do expect results.” Troy had to work hard not to clench his teeth.

“What are you doing on your end?” Troy asked instead of reacting to the clearly intended bait.

“Crazy Dog and I will talk to our people. It’ll do them good if they hear firsthand how you risked your life for one of ours. Though I can’t make any promises about how accepting they’ll be.”

Troy was nodding along, almost like he was trying to hurry Walker up.

“What about threats?” he asked when Walker was finished, “Who’s gonna keep an eye out for that?” Walker’s expression closed off.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, I see. So what? We’re the ones always under suspicion and you’re the innocent victims? That’s how you wanna play this?” Troy asked, tone pitched high.

“I’m just going by what history teaches,” Walker replied unfazed. Troy bit his lower lip, intent on tearing it.

“Come on, Taqa,” Jake said in a quiet but firm tone, “We need to work together. So we have to anticipate threats even from improbable places.” Troy curled his lips in disgust at “improbable places”.

“I’m not putting my people under general suspicion, that is no way to lead them,” Walker replied.

Troy saw his vision go red. He tensed all muscles, fully prepared to walk out of this meeting and never look back.

“But, I will be on the lookout for any more than usual disgruntlement. Any malicious whispers,” Walker allowed. Troy relaxed back into his chair and a wave of tiredness swept over him. Why was everything so _goddamn difficult_?

“Thank you,” Jake told Walker sincerely. Troy didn’t have the energy to scoff but the contempt in his gaze said it all.

“Thank _you_ ,” Walker replied after a short pause and Troy was surprised to find that it was directed at him. He tried to shrug it off but Walker’s pleased little smile told him he had seen something in Troys expression that Troy had not meant for him to see.

*

“Troy, whatever you are planning, don’t do it,” Jake said as soon as the front door fell shut.

“What do you mean?” Troy asked in a more patient tone than he’d thought possible.

“This thing – with Taqa, right now? It’s a good thing. Don’t – don’t do what you normally do.” _Don’t destroy it_ was left unsaid and it still echoed loudly off the walls. Troy spread his tight-balled fists very deliberately.

“Didn’t see you trying very hard with Walker,” he said then.

“I mean it, Troy,” Jake said instead of replying, “Just, don’t.” Troy closed his eyes, wishing he could make the world disappear as easily as that.

“Is that all?” he asked after a beat. And Jake got this look on his face that told Troy it wasn’t nearly close to all.

“No! No this isn’t _all_ , Troy. What did you mean, it wasn’t Dad’s sacrifice?” The dark stain spread and Nick’s lifeless body appeared unbidden in Troy’s mind and he opened his eyes hastily. No, that’s not the sacrifice Jake was referring to.

And for the first time since he woke Troy really looked at Jake, saw that he was tense and shaking, eyes small and suspiciously red, face very pale. Probably didn’t get a good night’s sleep either. _Alicia_ , Troy’s mind supplied.

So Troy inclined his head almost sympathetically. “Nick killed dad, Jake,” he said very calmly and he wanted to close his eyes again, rest, but he already could hear whispers of Nick's confession echoing and so he didn't.

“And you _knew_? The whole time?” Jake asked for lack of anything better to say.

“Nono, I didn't know, not until–. Nick told me with his dying breath. Probably afraid of – probably wanting to alleviate his guilt.” And he said it like he was sounding out the words, like that concept was foreign to him. Jake just stared, eyebrows raised in disbelief or horror? Troy couldn’t tell, he couldn’t _think_ right. So he just kept talking.

“Way I figure it, Madison was the one who came up with it. Well” – he furrowed his brows –“guess her little tête-à-tête with Walker had something to do with it. But Nick – _Nick_ was the one to pull the trigger.”

“And because you couldn’t get revenge on Nick you took revenge on Madison?” Jake asked through clenched teeth, tone reproachful. The words didn’t make sense to Troy and he had to force himself to think, to understand the meaning.

“It was _Madison_ that wanted revenge,” he answered then and because Jake looked on the verge of shouting he added an explanation, “She tried to get me to agree to taking the Indians out. Just like she tried once before; when we got Alicia back.” And Jake’s hands balled to fists at the mention of Alicia and Troy tensed. Wrong. Move.

“Do. Not. Talk about her,” Jake hissed.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s possible she didn’t know. About dad,” Troy said in what he assumed was a soothing tone.

Jake stormed to where Troy was sitting, and Troy stood hastily, unsure what Jake wanted to do but not willing to be sitting while waiting. Jake grabbed him by the collar, invading his personal space.

“Stop. Talking. Just stop! How are you so calm!? Dad was _murdered_. By Nick!? Nick who was s _hot,_ _dead._ And Madison? Madison got _exiled_ and Alicia – Alicia’s gone now, too!”

And Troy saw the same unanswered questions, the same hurt and betrayal he was feeling, reflected back at himself. He couldn’t stand seeing it. So he threw his arms around Jake, holding on painfully strong. Jake was tense and unyielding – defensive.

“I know, brother, I _know_ ,” Troy said and there was so much hiding behind these simple words. Jake sighed, letting go of unasked questions for now. Then he returned the hug reluctantly.

“I’ll make it right, you’ll see. None of it will have been in vain. I’ll make it right,” Troy whispered and Jake was inexplicably reminded of when they were children.

*

The sun was glaring angrily and Troy reflexively squinted his eyes against it. He’d much rather just lay down but he couldn’t stand to be in that house even a second longer. So he had told Jake he’d get a breakfast in the communal area and was slowly making his way there. It could almost be mistaken for sauntering, the way he moved, if not for a well-hidden wince once in a while.

“Troy! Good to see you up and about, man,” Blake had spotted him and was besides him in seconds.

“Blake,” Troy greeted curtly.

“Nothing can keep you down, eh?” Blake said and forced a larger smile than warranted.

Troy’s expression didn’t relax and Blake’s smile slipped.

“Troy, you were right to call me out. About –” and he made a vague gesture, unwilling to reference that specific night with words– “You were right. If we hadn’t…” And he trailed off again. But both of them were thinking of Nick. Of the possibility that he might’ve been still alive, _if only._ Troy gritted his teeth. He’d come outside to get away from that memory. To clear his head.

So he grunted in what he hoped was an affirmative enough tone to get Blake to leave him alone. Instead of leaving, Blake stepped closer. Then he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper,

“Anyway, the guys and I got talking and: we’re ready. So, just say the word.”

“Ready for what?” Troy asked, even though he didn’t need to. Blake had the same tone of voice as Madison when she’d said _They won’t get away with this_. Blake furrowed his brows at that question.

“Well, uh, you know. For retribution.” And Nick appeared behind Blake, an overly empathic expression on his face, hands clasped over his heart. Then he raised his brows at Troy and did a little head tilt as if to say _Great job_. Troy wanted to wipe that expression off Nick’s face with his fists.

“Nonono. No,” he said instead.

“No?”

“No retribution. No plans. No nothing until I haven’t talked to all of you,” Troy said low while trying to press his thoughts into words.

“You got it!” Blake replied eagerly, “Of course. Of course we’ll wait for you. Just wanted you to know that we _are ready_.” Nick was watching that exchanged with an expression of utmost concentration on his face.

Troy clenched his jaw and balled his fists. Why wasn’t Blake listening?

“I told you, _no_. Don’t –“ and he stopped talking, forcefully, “Just wait to hear from me.”

“Yeah man, that’s what I was telling you,” Blake said and an edge crept into his tone, making the hairs in Troy’s neck stand up, “We are all waiting for your signal. _Ready_ and waiting.” Again that tone made him think of Madison. Of Madison saying _Look what Ophelia did. Between the two of us we can outdo her_ , of himself telling Nick _We’re gonna be a beacon in the darkness_. Made him think of Nick, dead in his arms. Nick, who was staring at him reproachfully, now, his finger pointing to the earth. To something on it. Red droplets on dusty ground.

For a moment he was confused by the sight of it, his brain not processing what he was seeing. Not understanding what had happened.

But Blake’s bloody nose and his wide-eyed expression made it clear to Troy what must have happened. He could hear the pounding of his heart, unnaturally loud, drowning everything else out. Except this ugly feeling, that was encompassing him – clinging to him, no, _choking_ him. In an attempt to ignore it he looked around. Saw Nick. Nick, who was mouthing “Savage” and made a grossly exaggerated pitying face at him.

Troy couldn’t take the implied judgment. He couldn’t stand being near the red earth. _Enough blood has been spilled._ Couldn’t stand being looked at with fear. He backed away, from Blake, from the blood, from Nick, from those feelings, stumbled, caught himself and ran.

*

He kept running. Way past the fence. Way past where it was safe. Way past his own exhaustion. And still, those feelings clung to him. He only stopped when he found himself in the middle of a pack of infected. The rattling breathing alerted him to it – and at first he’d thought it was Nick. Nick come to mock him, because of course he couldn’t hope to outrun Nick. But it came from several sources. And that realization pulled him into the here and now like nothing else could. He was in the middle of a pack of infected and he only had his gun and his knife with him.

And that ugly feeling swelled in him, thrumming, just under his skin. And so Troy reached for his knife, his arm steady, and plunged it into the nearest infected’s eye. And then he twisted it, curiously staring at the mangled wound.

“Yeah, it’s dead, man,” Nick said, “Well, I mean, they all are, aren’t they.” And Nick pointed at the other four advancing infected, lazily. Troy forced his mouth into a grin, pulled the knife out of the dead infected and met the others halfway.

Fighting them was hard. The knife wasn’t made to incapacitate and so he had to be quick about killing them. Get very close to them, to kill them.

And it wasn’t satisfying at all.

He still felt – oh he still _felt_. He felt all of it. It had been violently dragged out of the deepest parts of him, to the surface, into his awareness. And there was no putting it back, no hiding from it. He screamed with this realization, unheeding of what else he might attract.

And so he reached for his gun, because damn it, he needed to slow those fuckers down, he needed to hear the sound of a gun cocking, firing. This sound that should’ve been the end of him. Madison should’ve ended him after… after… . In the end, even in this he had misjudged her.

The cold steel in his hand did manage to somewhat calm his system, to narrow his focus. As it always did. With an exhale he aimed and shot. And again. And again. And again. Until there was only the unsatisfying clicking sound of an empty magazine.

He hadn’t shot to kill and he wasn’t even sure if this had been a conscious decision. Seeing the infected trying to crawl and drag themselves towards him, towards their only remaining desire in existence now, a food source, filled him with jaw-clenching satisfaction.

It probably wouldn’t matter what else he did to them, they’d not stop in trying to reach him. Nothing could make them stop trying to reach him unless they died. _No_ , unless he killed them.

He was the master of their fate now. He was their potential sustenance, they _had to_ get to him. But he wasn’t helpless in this. He wasn’t at their mercy over this.

No, he was still standing while they crawled. He had weapons that could make quick work of them. He chose to stay where he was. He chose to taunt them with his presence. Lure them. In contrast to him, they didn’t understand the danger they were in. They only wanted to reach him, no matter how.

So he proceeded to test his hypothesis whether nothing short of death would stop the infected. For a moment he wished for a better weapon, a machete, an ax, anything more capable of delivering blunt force. But as he sidestepped one infected to get near to the other he reevaluated. He _liked_ having to go so near that everything in him screamed danger. _Yes_ , he replied gleefully, _exactly. Danger_.

And then he concentrated on trying to slow the infected down. It took a long while and it was bloody work. Sawing and hacking away at the limbs, while staying out of range of those dangerous teeth. He was switching between the two, starting with the hands and arms on one, with the legs on the other. Maybe one way would be more efficient than the other. And he worked and worked and worked with a single minded determination that pushed everything else away. He didn’t see Nick, crouched down besides him. He no longer mulled over his inadequacies. He no longer felt his anger. His helplessness. His grief.

It didn’t last.

Once the infected where no longer able to move forward, once there was nothing else he could remove from them, everything returned, overwhelming him for a moment.

Troy felt so exhausted that he had to sit down right where he stood. Besides the snapping disembodied infected’s head.

As he watched the ineffective snarling and growling and snapping he couldn’t help but feel a strange kind of kinship to it. Couldn’t help but say, almost sympathetically, “I know exactly how you feel, buddy.”

Troy sat there for a long time, watching the head and allowed himself to feel. Nick’s death. Madison’s grief – betrayal. His father’s murder. The loss of the ranch. Blake’s bloodied nose. And all the ways in which he had failed to prevent these things from happening.

He was sure that the wetness on his cheeks wasn’t just due to the blood staining them.


End file.
